


Gateway Drug

by rosegoldhl (Rosegoldhl)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 18:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosegoldhl/pseuds/rosegoldhl
Summary: The gray fabric cuddled Louis, keeping him warm inside the cold, lonely flat. Too big for his height and weight -Harry had a love for oversized sweaters and hoodies and he was much taller and bigger than Louis- he had been walking around with nothing but it on, hood covering his unwashed hair and providing him with inexplicable safety.Louis and Harry break up and the only thing that Louis has left is Harry's hoodie and their memories.





	Gateway Drug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superrichkids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superrichkids/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a fluffy, silly drabble for my babe [Kirston](http://pupperlouis.tumblr.com/), because we both loved [Louis' new, gray hoodie.](http://ltfashionarchive.tumblr.com/post/164333255954/louis-in-nyc-august-18-2017-vetements-french) Somewhere along the way my ideas changed and this angsty mess was created. 
> 
> She will forgive me, though, because I know she loves some angst. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta, [Heidi](http://theinfernalfire.tumblr.com/). I enjoyed the live commenting the most and it gave me confidence to proudly share this work. 
> 
> I have created a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/moonlitlarrie/playlist/29Rsu7GcUy65Jg3dteY6TE) with songs that inspired the scenes of this work. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> This work is now translated in Russian and you can find it [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7430847)

_I miss you._

 

Louis stared at the screen of his phone, message left on read and heart racing inside his chest. It had been the worst week of his life, he had been nothing but a crying mess, whenever he was alone. His diet consisted of nothing but coffee and instant noodles in a cup. He wasn’t a cook, he didn’t even know how to use the oven. That was Harry. Harry always made the meals and Louis took care of the dishes. Well, not anymore. Their kitchen looked like a bombardment of chaos and mess. _His_. Not theirs. _They_ had nothing in common anymore.  

There was always a small part of him that knew that this relationship wouldn’t end well. There was a lot of love, but there was a lot of fighting, a lot of unhealthy obsession from both sides. Louis had caught himself saying and doing things he never thought he would. When they started dating, when both of them were too happy to fight, Louis thought they would be forever. That Harry had been _it_ for him. He still was. There was no way Louis would ever find another human being like Harry Styles, there was no way he would love someone like that again.

As the years passed the relationship stopped being ideal. That’s how these things are supposed to be. But Louis was sure that everything becoming more intense wasn’t normal. There was too much dependence, too much jealousy. Louis had caught himself developing irrational thoughts, he felt caged in his own mind. However, he still hoped that things would change or that they would end on a positive note. Say goodbye and remember their days together fondly. He never expected the fight. The ugly words. The blaming to their mutual friends behind his back. Louis didn’t know what broke him more; the fact that he lost Harry or that Harry didn’t care enough for him to protect him from the humiliation?

 

_I miss you._

 

Louis left the phone on the couch next to him and he reached for his cigarettes. He lit one and blew the smoke upwards, not caring he was staining his flat with the scent of tobacco. Harry always hated it when Louis was smoking inside the house. Whatever. He wasn’t there to scold him, treat him like a child, and make him feel guilty for every little thing he was doing. Louis took a long drag of his cigarette, filling his lungs with delicious poison.

How dared he send that message? How dared he miss him? He was the one who left. He was the one who broke his heart, he wasn’t allowed to play the victim, he wasn’t allowed to miss him. He wasn’t the one who was sitting on their couch staring at all their pictures on the wall, reminders of memories that seemed to belong to someone else. He wasn’t the one wearing Louis’ favourite hoodie, just to be able to feel him around him, smell him.

The gray fabric cuddled Louis, keeping him warm inside the cold, lonely flat. Too big for his height and weight -Harry had a love for oversized sweaters and hoodies and he was much taller and bigger than Louis- he had been walking around with nothing but it on, hood covering his unwashed hair and providing him with inexplicable safety.

His phone vibrated again and Louis felt a single tear running down his cheek; throat restricting his airways, heart pounding inside his chest like a wild animal needing  to find release. Find Harry. Louis reached with a trembling hand to pick up his phone. Two single words flashed across his screen, following the previous message.

 

_So much._

 

Louis almost believed him.

 

~*~

 

Fridays were the loneliest days.

Louis would come back from the office around 5pm, eat a very late lunch or an early dinner. He was lucky if he had any meals at all. Then sit in front of the TV; pretending that staying in every weekend, ordering food he could never finish and watching old movies in his gray hoodie was a choice. It’s been a month since the last time he heard from Harry, those late night messages that had been left unanswered, were the last words he heard from him. He knew from Niall that Harry was doing well. He was going to work normally, Niall had told him that after a couple of days of noticing black circles under his eyes and a general disorientation, Harry was fine.

Of course he was fine. Louis had returned home from his lunch with Niall, slipped back into Harry’s clothes, the gray hoodie he had left behind, his favourite, and had cried until he had no more tears to shed. Although he never could feel empty. He awaited the moment of emptiness eagerly, the moment he would stop feeling that sharp pain in the veins of his left arm, whenever he thought of Harry.

He knew he should make a better effort to get rid of him. He should take down their pictures, delete his phone number, even forget his name, act like he didn’t know a Harry.  He should start by throwing out the gray hoodie, but even taking it off to take a shower made him feel small and defenseless.  

So he sank in this new routine. He went to work, pretended he knew what he was doing sitting in front of his computer for eight hours. He had three coffees while he was there. He joked with Tom from the office next to his. He pretended his smile was real. He came back and he shed the layers of lies off his body. He wore his gray hoodie and always covered his head. Sitting in front of the TV he never moved. Sometimes he ate, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he didn’t.

Fridays were the worst, though. They were their nights. They would come back to their little, imperfect flat and would catch up on a week’s worth of news, they would cuddle, they would cook together -Harry would make something complicated as Louis watched- they would watch silly movies. They were good at it, they were good at pretending they had domesticated all the ugly insecurities each one carried.

Every Friday Louis would fall asleep with his phone in his hands, covered by the long sleeves of this safety net. Every Saturday morning his phone didn’t have any new messages or calls. Hope should have died long ago.

 

~*~

 

He saw him for the first time, a month and thirteen days after he broke his heart.

Louis had decided he should do some grocery shopping, he was out of instant noodles and hand soap, so he had forced himself to get out of the house. He had thrown a pair of joggers underneath his hoodie, and foregoing his car, since the store was within walking distance. He knew he didn’t look his best, but he didn’t care, he didn’t expect to see anyone but the cashier, who sent him pitiful looks whenever he dropped in to buy the week’s supplies every Monday afternoon after work.

He definitely didn’t expect to see Harry standing at the cereal aisle, contemplating which granola bars to buy. He looked the same, yet so different. Louis felt like he was looking at an alien, someone who he knew but someone he had never seen before. Harry looked much more collected than him, blue jeans and white shirt, his jacket open and brand new sneakers. He looked perfectly fine and that hurt.

Louis didn’t know if he should go talk to him, act like everything was fine, or if he should just flee, act like the man in front of him, his boy, was a hallucination, because of hunger and lack of sleep. He stared down at his pathetic shopping basket. He couldn’t have Harry seeing him in this state. Louis missed him, he was hurt, but what was more hurt was his ego. And his bruised ego couldn’t take Harry feeling sorry for him. Louis turned his back to Harry and walked away, looking for the liquor aisle. If he couldn’t get over Harry, he could try to forget him with cheap alcohol.

Grabbing a couple of wine bottles, he made his way to the cashier, hoping that Harry wouldn’t finish his shopping soon. He didn’t want to listen to his name spoken from that voice, even if he was desperate to listen to it one last time, because he was starting to forget how deep and smooth it was. He didn’t want to make small talk or talk about work. He didn’t want to lie about how great he was doing. He didn’t want Harry to see the gray hoodie and ask Louis to give it back.

But life was never about what Louis wanted. As soon as he was within two steps distance from the cashier, Harry came from the other way, blocking his way. He didn’t even notice Louis, he just murmured an apology and let him pass. Louis’ heart was pumping inside his chest, because at any moment Harry could raise his eyes and realize he was standing in front of Louis. Would he smile? Would he pretend he was happy? Has the bitterness of the break up vanished for him? Did he care anymore. Had he ever cared?

Louis swallowed and took a step towards the cashier, wanting to go first and run out the store as fast as possible. That’s when Harry saw him and stopped dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open and shopping basket almost falling from his hands. Louis waited for a word, an acknowledgement, something. Harry just shook his head and looked away, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought and shoulder muscles tense. Louis didn’t wait for the cashier to start, he dropped everything on the ground and run out refusing to lose his dignity like he lost his heart.

Tears run freely and people started at him as he pushed through a group of girls to get out of the store. He heard his name being called and he knew it was him, but he didn’t stop. It was too late. It was too late for everything and anything. He shouldn’t have wanted to hear his name being spoken by Harry, because now that he heard it, it ripped his chest apart and suffocated him with the ache of all the other words he needed to hear but would never come.

He started walking towards his building, almost running in the streets, until a hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him, turning him around. Louis knew it was him, he half-expected it, half-hoped it would happen, because he was a sucker for things like that and he needed it, he needed the validation that he meant something for Harry once, something enough to make him chase him and stop him from running away. Selfish, Louis was so selfish and toxic, like he always was with Harry. He hated himself.

“Please,” Harry whispered, before anything else and Louis didn’t know what he was pleading for. “Wait.”

Louis shrugged Harry’s hand off his shoulder and took a step back, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of Harry’s hoodie. He didn’t seem like he had noticed, his green eyes were focused on Louis’ face. Louis knew he didn’t look good at the moment, Harry could see every sleepless night, all the missed meals, every single minute of crying on his tired skin, the red spots, and the black circles under his red-rimmed eyes.

“No, don’t,” Louis said turning around to leave, but Harry reached for him again, pulling him back by his arm. “Fuck off, Harry,” Louis cried. “You acted like you don’t know me, who does that?”

“Lou,” Harry flinched, regret clear in his eyes. He reached for him again and Louis, Louis who was a loser and weak, let him pull him in a hug, knowing the pain he would feel when he would have to be deprived of that touch again. Harry’s hands rested on his back, fingers digging in the fabric. “Don’t leave, give me a moment.”

Louis knew there was no point in staying. They would end up going their separate ways anyway. Harry would go back to his normal life and Louis would go back to his mess. And they wouldn’t speak again, until they would bump into each other at some store or the street or a mutual friend’s house, and Louis would fall back into the pain. Again and again. Because Louis would never get over Harry. He knew it. But Louis stayed, because Harry asked. He let Harry hug him. And Harry took advantage of it, resting his forehead on Louis’.

“I can’t believe I am seeing you again,” he said after a moment, relaxing his grip on Louis, but not letting him go. “I have a hard time believing I’m not imagining you,” Harry whispered.

“Harry,” Louis whimpered, tired of still crying. Tired. So Tired. He wanted to leave, but he also didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to stop the burning sensation of being touched by Harry.

“Just- Louis. I mi-”

“Don’t say it, please, don’t,” Louis begged. His heart couldn't take it, he felt ready to explode.

Harry shook his head, but didn’t say it. With their foreheads still touching, he nosed Louis’ skin, hot breath making Louis dizzy to the point he felt his knees weak. Not in the cute, fun, bubbly way he did on their first date. He genuinely felt ready to pass out in Harry’s arms.

“My Lou.”

Louis was crying harder now. It was unfair that Harry left his life and didn’t even come back on his own. It was luck and random circumstances that brought them to the point of hugging in the middle of the busy sidewalk.

“I miss you, I need you.”

And those were the words Louis had been longing to hear all along, but they hurt him with the force of a thousand promises that had been broken in the past. Promises to try harder, promises to be better, promises they would fix things.

Louis, stupid as he was, raised his head and searched for Harry’s lips, needing them to feel grounded again, and Harry offered them to him, trapping Louis’ bottom lip between his and sucking softly, before his tongue found its way inside Louis’ mouth, chasing the familiar taste. Louis’ arm came to find Harry’s neck, pulling him closer. More, he needed more. The kiss wasn’t suffocating enough, he needed to stop breathing anything that wasn’t Harry.

“More,” he murmured against Harry’s mouth, stomach and heart a painful mess wanting to escape. “More, Harry, more. You can’t leave again.”

Harry shook his head and pecked Louis’ cheek, before he stole another kiss. “Anything you want,” he promised.

Louis didn’t believe him, but he followed him home.

 

~*~

 

Louis’ back hit the door, as soon as it closed behind them, a mess of limbs fighting and failing to rid the bodies of the clothes. Harry’s hot breath on his face sent shivers all over Louis’ cold body. Wrong, so wrong. Louis was making one mistake after another, but his brain had given up and had left his body adrift in a pool of emotions of despair and ache for Harry.

Harry’s lips found his, pushing and pushing, and Louis could do nothing but push back, demanding for more. Hips aligned, the fabric between them separating their burning bodies, Louis rolled his hips, riding Harry’s thigh. Harry’s hands, knowing Louis’ body as they knew how to hold a pen or carry a box, reached for the bottom of Louis’ thighs and lifted him, until Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and rested his weight against the door, banging his head in the process. The throbbing pain in his skull was a welcomed distraction from the throbbing pain inside his chest.

“Bed,” Louis demanded between kisses, but Harry ignored him, diving for another kiss, tongue hot and unforgiving. Louis whimpered, because everything was too much. He shouldn’t be there, he should be at his own flat, eating his crappy dinner and watching TV like every other night. He shouldn’t be at Harry’s new flat, ready to relapse. He felt like an addicted man fighting an enemy he couldn’t win and that was his own ache for Harry. “Fucking bed, Harry, take me to bed,” Louis said again more urgently.

Harry didn’t let him stand on his own feet, he turned around holding Louis tight, his lips never leaving Louis’ skin for more than a second and walked farther in. Louis was too preoccupied, with taking in Harry and everything he had missed all this time, to observe anything around him, so he was surprised when his back hit a hard mattress on the floor, in front of a grand window that looked down London. Louis wished he had the luxury to avoid their bed and all the memories it carried, too.

Desperate for Harry’s touch, Louis reached with both hands and grabbed Harry’s arm, nails breaking the flesh as he pulled it, urging him to grace his body with attention. Harry replied to the silent request by nodding his  head, like he could hear every little thought of Louis’ brain. Maybe he could. Maybe after getting to know someone as well as Harry knew Louis, one could read their thoughts.

Pushing the soft, gray fabric up, Harry put a hand underneath Louis’ top, fingertips grazing the concave stomach, not recognizing the body that he used to worship, because a month and thirteen days of heartbreak have that effect on people, turning them into a shadow. Harry didn’t rob him from the touch Louis needed so much. His fingers dug in, promising a set of light bruises the next day, ones that would remind Louis how stupid and weak he was. Desperate. Helpless.

With the urgency of the time they spent apart, Harry pushed Louis’ joggers down to his thighs, alongside his underwear, leaving him bare and hard underneath the hoodie. Harry took a hold of his cock and Louis felt like he was hit by the force of ten thousand thunders. He closed his eyes and dropped his head on Harry’s pillow, the scent intoxicating for his sleep deprived mind. Harry started stroking him slowly and Louis could do nothing but trying to control his heavy breath.

“I hate you for taking this away from me, Louis.” Those were the first words Harry said since they got inside his flat and they knocked Louis’ breath out.

“You left,” Louis accused him. Harry’s things were still left intact in their flat, abandoned. It wasn’t Louis who asked him to leave.

“You let me.”

Louis shook his head, opening his mouth to argue, but Harry shut him up by thumbing the head of his cock, stroking it gently, before he tightened his grip again and stroked him hard and fast. Louis fell on his back again, carelessly moaning loud enough to be heard by the people living in the flats around Harry’s.

“I wanted you to fucking ask me to stay,” Harry kept talking, not giving a chance to Louis to think of a comeback the way he touched him. “You had given up on me long before I packed my bags, Louis. I wanted you to ask me to stay. Ask me to work things out. I thought you’d be as devastated as I was, but you just stared at me opening that fucking, ugly door and leaving, like you didn’t care.”

Surprised that he had more tears to shed, Louis closed his eyes and turned his head away, staining Harry’s  pillow. Louis had blankly stared at Harry leaving, because he could never believe the words he had heard from him. He could never believe Harry had been cruel to take his soul and rip it to pieces, throwing the rags away, as he opened that door. He could never believe it was over. For Louis it was a nightmare and he just had to wake up.

“Did you ever love me, Louis?” Harry asked, suddenly invading Louis’ space, leaving open mouthed kisses on his lips.

“How can you say that?” Louis asked, reaching for Harry’s face, fingers locking on his jaw, stroking it gently. He couldn’t let him have any doubts. “How can you even think that I don’t love you?”

Harry let out a shuddering sob, eyes watering. “You never answered my texts. I waited for you to ask me to come back to our home, Lou.”

“Our home was there for you. You were the one who moved on. Got a new apartment, got a haircut. You’re happy, Harry, you’re happy you left me.”

Harry cried harder, shoulders moving and hands trembling. “I can’t even breath properly without you. I don’t know how to be human without you.” Harry picked up the pace of his hand movement, reminding Louis how painfully hard he was, how much he needed release. “Not having you, not touching you, makes me feel pointless.”

Louis opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. He did it a couple of times, before he settled for a kiss. A deep, messy kiss he hoped would convey everything he felt for this man. Harry rendered the kiss, making quick work to bring Louis to ecstasy. Louis shot his head back as he came, Harry’s name on his lips, but never quite getting out. Harry caressed him through his orgasm, lips never leaving his neck or mouth, before he stilled and a single moan escaped his mouth.

Resting his forehead on Louis’, he panted. Sweat and tears, a mix on their skins, this was the most beautiful Louis had ever seen Harry. “Did you-” Harry stopped him by nodding and then kissing him tenderly, not taking his hand from Louis’ spent cock. Louis didn’t dare to ask him, afraid to lose his touch.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured.

Louis didn’t know if he was sorry for the break up or the fact they fell back into bed like two idiots, who didn’t know better. Sex wasn’t going to fix everything wrong with them. It didn’t fix anything in the past, it would do little to nothing to help their situation now. If anything Louis would go back to his own flat and he would have to work from the beginning again to reach a point of functioning without breaking down in tears.

“I’m sorry, too.”

They stayed there, on the mattress on the floor, a silent agreement that the night wasn’t the right time to discuss and a promise to leave that for the morning. None of them really slept that night.

 

~*~

 

Morning came faster than Louis expected it. Soft rays of sunlight hit their faces, illuminating the worry and exhaustion hidden there. Harry’s eyes had been closed for the past forty minutes, but Louis didn’t know if he was asleep or he was resting in the warmth of the covers. Sometime in the early morning, they both took off their clothes, Harry staying naked and Louis keeping his hoodie on, not ready to let it go yet.

Laying face to face, it was so hard for Louis to ignore Harry’s haunting beauty, the pale skin and rosy lips. He looked so young, while sleeping. God, he was so young, they both were. They were in their mid-twenties, definitely not old enough to have all this weight on their shoulders. They should be able to be happy or move on. This unhealthy despair to be with each other was unfair to both of them.

He should leave. He knew it was the right thing to do. He should leave and then try to find a way to forgive and forget. Move on. It was the sensible thing to do, the only thing that could benefit both. His hand came from under the covers to find Harry’s face. He caressed his cheek softly, until Harry’s eyes fluttered, before he opened them. The smile he gave to Louis, before he buried his face back in the pillow to avoid the light, was heartbreaking. It was as if he had forgotten. Maybe he had.

“I have to go home,” Louis whispered and watched as Harry’s face crumbled. Louis took a big breath, trying to keep control of his emotions. He was tired of crying, his headache had only gotten worse. He needed to have this pain gone. He had to take action, finally, try to fix himself, since he couldn’t fix their relationship. “I have to go to work or at least call in sick.”

“You have to stay,” Harry said in a pleading tone. “I can’t go back to not seeing you. Louis, you have no idea how much it hurts being away from you.”

Louis wanted to laugh at the idea of not knowing the pain of missing Harry. He had felt nothing else but it, since they broke up. He shook his head and took away his hand from Harry’s face, but Harry grabbed it the last moment, trapping it inside his own.

“Harry, please.”

“No, I’m the one who is begging you,” Harry said getting into an alert state fast. He got up from his lying position, standing on his knees on the mattress, almost losing his balance in the process. “Let’s give us another chance, one last time. Please, Lou.”

Louis hated how hope flared in his chest. How he was ready to nod his agreement and accept, fall back into _LouisandHarry_ like he hadn’t been a dead man the past month and a half. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Harry. You know I love you, you know it’s hard for me to be away from you.”

“Then there’s no use fighting it. Why suffer?”

“What do you want me to do?” Louis asked, because he couldn’t make up his mind. He needed Harry to find a way to solve everything.

“I want you to stay.”

Louis sighed and layed on his back, pulling Harry with him, since he refused to let go of his hand.

“Stay,” Harry repeated, voice smaller, barely a whisper.

Louis closed his eyes. Just a couple of hours more.

 

~*~

 

Louis opened his eyes to a plate of delicious food. Steak and potato mash, some veggies, because Harry always insisted on putting vegetables in Louis’ plate, and two slices of bread. Louis looked up at Harry, who was freshly showered and in a white T-shirt and black boxers. He looked calm and collected, the opposite of the mess that was Louis.

“You didn’t even flinch when I dropped the pan on the floor, you were tired,” Harry shrugged.

Louis stood from his position, sitting on the mattress with his legs crossed in front of him and Harry placed the plate on his lap, not caring about the stains that Louis would inevitably leave all over the white sheets.

“Thank you,” Louis said hoarsely and coughed to get rid of the sleep from his voice, before he spoke again. “Won’t you eat?” he asked when he saw Harry sitting across from him.

“Already did, while you were asleep. It’s five in the afternoon.”

“I missed work!” Louis panicked looking around him to find his jacket, where his phone was, battery probably dead.

“I called in sick for you,” Harry reassured him. “I’m hope that’s okay, love.”  

Louis nodded, ignoring the pang he felt in his chest at the pet name that rolled so effortlessly out of Harry’s mouth. Louis felt awkward to even speak his name, like he didn’t deserve it, like he wasn’t allowed to do so.

“Come on, eat up. You need protein and carbs in that body of yours.” Louis looked away embarrassed and reached for his knife and fork. “It’s okay, you know,” Harry said softer. “It’s okay not taking care of yourself, when you’re sad. It’s only normal.”

“You did just fine,” Louis murmured, avoiding Harry’s gaze, as he took a bite of the deliciously juicy steak. “You managed to eat and go to work and smile.”

Harry sighed and reached for Louis’ knee, placing a gentle hand there and stroking the naked flesh with his thumb. “For me- look- I had to keep acting like nothing has changed, like every night after I’d close up the restaurant, I’d come home and all the facade, all the pretense stopped and it was just me and the realization I lost you, Lou.”

“You stopped calling,” Louis said, not wanting to hear more about Harry’s hard times. He thought he’d be happy, if he knew that Harry was suffering as much as he was, but the idea of Harry coming back to lonely, empty flat, with no pictures on the walls or memories, and feeling hopeless, made Louis feel guilty. He should be happy, Harry should always be happy. “You texted me once that night and then stopped.”

“I deleted your number. I got angry, because you didn’t answer me,” Harry admitted embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he added with a whisper.

Louis forced some potato mash down his throat, even if his stomach was refusing to settle down and accept the food. “You know you could have gotten my number from a friend.”

“I could, Lou,” Harry agreed. “I also kind of remembered it by heart, but you need to understand, you’re not an open book. I didn’t know what you wanted, if you wanted me back. You never replied. How could I risk getting hurt again, when you kept ignoring me?”

Louis raised his eyes to look at Harry’s honest ones. How could he not see that Louis was breathing just for him? How could he be so unaware?

“Just because your feelings are intense, it doesn’t mean I know what you’re thinking,” Harry replied, reading his mind again. A good reminder of how no one else would ever get to know Louis as Harry did. “I need to know, Lou.”

Louis swallowed and left the utensils down, before he put the plate on the floor next to the mattress. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He was confused. He was afraid. What if he opened himself up to hope, only to be crashed again? He had convinced himself that his relationship with Harry was over and now Harry was back and asking for another go. A moment that came from all of Louis’ dreams. It was a nightmare. Harry waited with hopeful eyes wide open and Louis felt like his throat was closing, suffocating him.

“I don’t know if I can come back to this,” Louis said honestly.

“I can be better,” Harry promised. “I will take care of you, Louis. No more stupid fights and jealousy scenes, no more complaining about meaningless stuff like your shoes in the hallway or your towel on the floor. I don’t care about anything, as long as I can have you. It took me to lose you in order to realize how much I need you and that’s stupid of me, but please let me love you.”

Whether he was breathing or not, Louis didn’t know. Because Harry sounded sincere, he was. Louis knew his intentions were honest, because no one was as kind and loving as Harry. But fear had hamstrung him, taking his ability to trust. He could trust Harry, but he couldn’t trust himself or their relationship to survive.

“It took me a week to get out of the house,” Louis informed him. “It took me two to start functioning again. I am still sleeping in your clothes to feel close to you.” Louis blushed admitting that last part, but he wanted Harry to know, he had to be aware of what he meant for Louis. “Nothing felt the same anymore, even watching TV without you felt awkward, like it was someone else doing it, not me.”

Harry nodded sympathetically and reached for Louis’ shoulder, squeezing it lightly, reminding him that he was there, that Louis wasn’t alone in this. At least not right then.

“It hurt. The things you said, before you left, hurt me a lot,” Louis whispered. “You called me terrible things, Harry. Irresponsible, dependent, a burden.”

“I never-”

“You said the word liability. Do you know what this made me feel? Why would you ever want to be with someone you don’t respect or like?”

Harry shook his head, tears shining in his eyes, before they fell down his pale cheeks. “Fuck, I’m an asshole. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn’t mean any of those things, Lou. I was mad. It’s not an excuse, I am sorry I even said those things. If I could go back in time, I’d punch myself to make me shut up. It was a stupid way of trying to get you to talk, say something, fight me.”

“But all those words were true.”

“No, my love,” Harry cried harder. He reached for Louis, cradling his face in his hands and staring him with intense eyes. “I’m sorry that the man, who is supposed to love you, made you feel less about yourself. I’m sorry I’m that man. Please, listen to me, you are an exquisite human being, a wonder. You are the best man I’ve ever met. So brave, so strong, so loving, wonderful, just wonderful.”

Louis tried to pull away. He believed Harry, he could see how desperate he was to be forgiven. But also he was afraid that Harry was turning a blind eye to Louis’ messy parts and they would be the ones that would lead them to heartbreak all over again.

“I’m not wonderful,” Louis murmured. “I’m human and I suck in many ways and you have to accept it, if you want to be with me. I will fuck up a lot and you will fuck up a lot. We will fight again and you will be mad about my shoes many times in the future. But we have to find a way to not let that get in the way of us, we can’t allow ourselves to hurt each other like this again.”

Harry nodded, smile delirious, as he cried against Louis’ skin, peppering his face with kisses. “I will do anything to make you understand how much I love you, all of you. The perfect parts and the flaws. Fuck, I’d never forgive myself if I ever hurt you again.”

Louis’ lips found Harry’s and he let himself breathe again. Harry sobbed against his mouth relieved. Louis didn’t even care he probably smelled like death, he just needed Harry, he needed him back, he needed their life together back.

“Promise me something,” Harry asked, when they stopped kissing to take a breath. Louis looked at him questioningly. “You have to let me know when I’m not doing something right, you have to talk to me. I need to know what you’re thinking and feeling in order to take care of you.”

“I will,” Louis promised. “I will take care of you, too. We’re in this together.”

They fell back into bed, kissing and touching each other, taking in the moment, as the sun slowly set behind them, giving its place to the endless lights of the city. Bodies found each other again with soft caresses and hard grips. Louis felt like he was on fire, but this fire was different, it was delicious and welcomed for his cold body.

“Will you come home?” Louis asked Harry, when he was ready to sink down his cock, body shivering under Harry’s tender touch.

Harry moaned, as Louis took him inside, throwing his head back in the pillows and closing his eyes. Louis couldn’t move, he was so full of Harry, he was everywhere inside and around him, yet he still felt like it wasn’t enough. Harry’s hands rested on the curves of Louis’ waist as the other man started moving smoothly, taking in the feeling of Harry.

Louis waited for an answer for a couple of moments, but Harry’s eyes were focused on his face and he didn’t seem to even have heard the question. Louis leaned forward, resting some of his weight on Harry, to kiss Harry’s neck.

“So? Will you?”

“What?”

Louis rolled his hips, chasing to have that spot inside him touched. “Home, Haz. Will you come back to our home?”

“I’ve already come,” Harry said sincere and open.

Louis felt like his heart was punched out of his chest. He had never thought he could ever love someone as much as he loved Harry that moment. He rolled his eyes and groaned, feigning embarrassment. “You are disgusting,” he said to Harry, kissing down his neck and collarbones. “Shut up.”

They picked up their pace, bringing each other to in ecstasy, and promising to be good to each other and themselves from now on. Harry was right, they were home.

 

~*~

 

“Lou, you left your shoes in the hallway again!” Harry yelled from the other room, before he made his way to the kitchen, where Louis was attempting to make dinner by himself for once. This was his third time trying to make something more complicated than eggs, and he was hoping they wouldn’t need the extinguisher again.

Louis turned around to look at Harry, who was standing at the door, holding a wooden spoon and trying to tame his sweaty fringe. The clothes were a lost cause, two big stains in the middle of his torso were proof he wasn’t doing the best job so far.

“I didn’t,” Louis said, because he was sure he had picked them up and put them in the closet.

Harry shook his head, amused smirk on his face, which was suspicious, given the fact that he was always annoyed when he tripped on Louis’ converses. “You didn’t. You said you would, but then ignored me and run to the shower.”

“I’m sorry, Haz, I’ll pick them up now,” Louis said, leaving the spoon on the stove, to go get his shoes out of the way.

Harry stopped him by grabbing him with one hand, his other hidden behind his back, since the moment he appeared. “You don’t have to, Roger did.”

“What?”

Harry brought his hand in front of him, holding a destroyed shoe. Louis’ destroyed shoe. “Maybe next time, you should listen to your smart, amazing, not-whiny man and just pick your damn shoes up.”

Roger made his way to the kitchen, tail boping unapologetically. Louis reached down for him and petted him between the ears. “You little asshole, this was my favourite pair.” Roger barked and licked Louis’ hand, before he run back to living room, probably looking for the other shoe to chew. Louis stood back up and pushed a laughing Harry. “You could have saved them.”

“I only found him two minutes ago under the bed,” Harry said raising his hands in surrender, “I swear.”

Louis sighed and shook his head, not quite believing how much of an asshole both the men of his life were. He turned around and returned to the stove, where the half-assed attempt at dinner was almost ready. “Wanna eat here or in front of the TV?”

Louis felt two large arms wrapping around his body from behind and hot lips pressing a kiss on the back of his neck. “TV. Let’s watch a nice movie, what do you think, babe?”

Louis hummed his agreement and turned his head for a kiss. It would never get old how much he longed for his husband’s kiss, even two years later.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat [here](http://moonlitlarrie.tumblr.com/), if you want. <3 xx


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